


tryin' to figure out what you're feelin'

by peachyfrikinkeen



Series: isn't it too dreamy? [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Crushes, F/M, High School Losers Club (IT), ITS ABOUT THE YEARNING, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Clown, Pining, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:00:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25524037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyfrikinkeen/pseuds/peachyfrikinkeen
Summary: "On Friday’s, after Mike’s football games, the seven friends would take drives in Bill’s car around rural Derry and look for the best spot to pull over and look at the stars (or, on rainy evenings, look at the city lights twinkling from the largest foothills).So here they were, on said rainy evening, all singing along to the Smith’s cassette tape playing through the old Volvo’s stereo, laughing and smiling as a storm raged on outside their cramped safe haven."(a short one shot based loosely around "6 Weeks" by Beach Bunny)
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: isn't it too dreamy? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849252
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	tryin' to figure out what you're feelin'

Eddie would never admit it out loud, but he secretly  _ loved  _ sitting in the middle seat in the back of Bill’s station wagon, squished between Richie and Stan (Bev usually rode shotgun, while Mike and Ben were banished to the trunk seats. If Richie was particularly loud that day,  _ he’d  _ be banished to the trunk). The car itself was a beat up piece of crap, passed down to him from his parents, with barely enough space for the seven (now mostly grown) losers to properly fit. It didn’t help that Bill was also an absolute shit driver and took turns and corners a little too sharp. 

Eddie would feign annoyance for the first few minutes of the ride and give Bill a hard time for “ _ forcing” _ him to sit in the middle (on record, he was never  _ forced _ , and in fact, the other boys would often offer Eddie their seats, but Eddie always declined, waving a fist was if to say "shh". He suspected Stan and Bev had caught onto this, but was thankful they'd never verbalized their take on the matter). He’d bicker with Richie, arguing that his bony elbows and knees were going to knock into Eddie too hard one of these days and bruise him. Richie would only scoff then smile in response. Eddie had a way with making his words of complaint sound like words of love, unbeknownst to himself only. 

On Friday’s, after Mike’s football games, the seven friends would take drives in Bill’s car around rural Derry and look for the best spot to pull over and look at the stars (or, on rainy evenings, look at the city lights twinkling from the largest foothills). 

So here they were, on said rainy evening, all singing along to the  _ Smith’s _ cassette tape playing through the old Volvo’s stereo, laughing and smiling as a storm raged on outside their cramped safe haven. The cold nights and close quarters caused foggy windows to reveal crude doodles of dicks and smiley faces, the occasional heart or two mixed in. Bill would complain about it, say his friends would scratch the glass, but they all knew his words were just empty threats with no merit (the cracks and small shatters in the windows were more likely to bust out if Bill flew over a pothole too fast than scratch from smudgy doodles).

Despite the warmth radiating from the three boys in the back seats, Eddie felt a little colder than usual. Maybe it was the fact that this was the first winter storm of the season and his coat was slightly damp from the walk to Bill’s car after the game. Or perhaps it was the strong mint gum he was chewing coupled with the broken dash air vents, which only seemed to ever push cold air though the car despite the heater being cranked and/or the A/C being turned off completely. However, the fidgety presence to his left was radiating  _ just  _ enough heat to keep him at bay (whether the heat was because of Eddie sitting thigh to thigh with the boy he’d had a crush on since age thirteen, or due to claustrophobia setting in, Eddie could not differentiate). He took a deep breath and crossed his ankles, preparing for what he knew would be coming up very soon.

Eddie could smell the scent of pine mixed with coffee and cigarettes radiating off of Richie, which had become slightly stronger anytime Richie shifted in his seat. When he reopened his eyes, Eddie was thankful to see that his friend was turned, leaning slightly forward, talking to Stanley so he wouldn’t have to see his ears grow bright red when their elbows touched every time Bill took a bump too fast. Eddie supposed that was part of the station wagon's charm, though ; the closeness, the darkness. 

Eddie kept his eyes on the road ahead of them, focusing on the streetlights’ glow bouncing off of the wet road and street signs. He could see them enter the more hilly part of town, and scooted  _ oh so slightly  _ closer to Richie, not breaking his gaze between Bill’s shoulders and Bev’s frizzy hair (If Eddie were to look left at Richie, however, he’d be locked into a staring contest: Richie had shifted his attention to the smaller boy when he felt him shift after the last left turn). 

It was childish and dumb and maybe even a little school-girly, but Eddie  _ liked _ it when Bill would take a turn too fast. It meant that he got to lean a little closer into Richie’s shoulder and take in the scent of his dingy denim jacket and the feeling of his shoulders slightly digging into Richie’s ribs. And god, the rush of adrenaline that came with being near your crush in any way made Eddie’s heart cartwheel forwards, back, and any place in between. 

And just like the many times before, Bill took a sudden turn too sharp, tossing the losers around behind him, the lot letting out groans of annoyance. Eddie’s face grew hot when he felt his elbow make contact, pressing against Richie’s side in the turbulence, letting a smile slip out of the shadows and onto his face. 

It was these moments he looked forward to the most… almost. The little things. The brief touches and sensitivity that would send electric shocks down to his toes. The proximity in a crowded car. The shouts and laughs of his best friends blocked out by his heart rapidly beating in his ears. 

This was  _ home _ . This was what got him through his mother’s nagging and long school days - the love and satisfaction of knowing that no matter what was happening, he could surround himself with friends, with  _ love _ , with comfort.

To Eddie, the comfort, albeit momentarily, was the best damn thing about being pressed up against Richie in the damn car. It made him feel bold and brave every time he got in that middle seat. 

Smiling, Eddie scooted closer to his friend again, preparing for another turn, and then again with the next turn, and the one after that, until their thighs were touching once more and he could feel the warmth build between them. He expected to get quietly razzed by Richie with every sly scoot, but was only met with lingering shoulders and arms for the next four turns Bill made. 

Recognizing the road they were currently flying down as Kenduskeag Avenue, Eddie hummed contently, knowing their final destination would be the old twenty-four hour diner the loser's had migrated to once becoming licensed had lead them away from the Barren's. He could see the twinkle of the sign sparkle as Bill turned into the parking lot.

Eddie looked over at Richie once they’d parked, hesitating to get out of the car while the rest of the Loser's hooted and hollered about the cold rain. Stan had slammed his door shut, rushing after Bill and Bev while Mike and Ben trailed just behind. Richie scoffed, muttering something about their friends being assholes, pushing his door open. Eddie chuckled then froze, feeling the warmth of Richie's hands brush his own, knuckles knocking together to unbuckle themselves. Eddie snapped his head up, meeting Richie’s gaze with an expression to make clear to him that Richie was aware why Eddie scooted closer every chance he got. Richie smiled at Eddie, eyes conveying the message of mutual affection in regard to their situation, almost as if he was trying to silently let Eddie know that he liked it, liked being close to someone with whom you have an unspoken bond with. 

Eddie smiled back, finally undoing the belt, but reaching to place his hand back on top of Richie’s. Intentionally. God, he loved sitting in the back seat. 

**Author's Note:**

> hello again! thank you for taking time to read my writing! this series will be on going and feature one shots centered around small town life, growing up, and relationships!  
> i am traxhmouth on tumblr! thank you again!


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